Sitting in a hospital bed, Michael Capadonno looked weak as he spoke to the men that sat around his bed. They pretended not to notice as they dropped their bets on his lap and surveyed their hands.
Anthony Schiabetta sat by Michael’s side trying to give him pointers on his hand, while five other men held up their own cards. Eddie “The Landlord” Torrento sat at the foot of Michael’s bed with an annoyed look permeating from his beady eyes. Beside him sat “Big Bang” Benny Mancini, whose reputation was as large as his gut was round. Next to him, sat Salvatore “Six” DiBlase, the six standing for the number of ex-wives he had. They’ll probably be calling him Seven soon enough. On Michael’s right-hand side sat Luke “The Face” Demograzzi, who had earned his nickname after no less than four rounds of plastic surgery.
“So whaddya think is gonna happen with your boy gettin’ out of the can, today?” “Big Bang” Benny Mancini asked as he eyed up his cards.
Michael’s right eyebrow raised as he considered the question. Glaring down at the cards in his hands, he didn’t respond.
“Cat got yer tongue?” Big Bang asked Michael when he didn’t get an answer.
Michael glared at his associate from over his cards.
“Yo, Mike, that’s a good question. I’d like to know the answa’ too…” Eddie “The Landlord” Torrento said as a cigar hung off of his lip.
Salvatore “Six” DiBlase rolled his eyes. “Quite frankly, I don’t give a shit. It’s just one more asshole to clock.”
“Who says we’re watchin’ ’em?” Anthony Schiabetta asked darkly as he brought his glass to his mouth. Sipping down the amber-colored drink, Six wore an unreadable expression.
“Seriously, Mike… Are ya gonna answer my fuckin’ question or just ignore me?” Big Bang asked testily.
Michael Capadonno cast a lethal glare at Benny as he laid his cards down.
“Royal flush, suckers… Pay up,” Michael said with a sly smirk.
“Motha’….” Six griped as he slapped down his cards on the table.
“Madonn’!” Big Bang complained as he snapped down a one-hundred-dollar bill onto Michael’s lap.
“So seriously, boss… Whaddya want us to do about Miles?” Six asked.
Michael sat silent for a moment. Staring at each of his men, he replied, “That, gentlemen, remains to be seen.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“WHAT NOW?” LANDON ASKED Miles as Corina revved up I-95 North. The sun was setting over the Philadelphia skyline, reflecting brightly off of the skyscrapers in the distance.
“Delilah’s… Cheerleaders… Club Risque?” Landon asked as he rattled off the names of some of Philly’s notorious strip clubs.
“How about none of the above?” Miles suggested, keeping his eyes drilled to the road. A red Chevy swerved in front of Corina. “Fucking douchebag! You don’t cut off a beauty like Corina!”
Sticking his head out the window, Miles screamed, “Good way to see angels, jackass!”
“C’mon, man…” Landon whined. “It’ll be fun…”
Rolling his eyes, Miles replied, “What part about blue balls is fun? No thanks, dude.”
“You just haven’t been to the right one… It’ll be fun,” Landon insisted.
“Yeah, I’m good, dude. A real man don’t need to pay a woman to shake her tits for him. And fun? Seriously? Empty wallet and an emergency case of the blue balls. And the girls… they bring in the most coked out, strung out, skin and bones bitches they can find. That shit is not sexy.”
Landon looked at Miles as if seven heads had just sprouted from his neck.
“Well, what is your idea of fun?” Landon asked, the look on his face not fading at all.
Miles laughed dryly as he replied, “Give me a woman I can sink my teeth into. Gimme curves, man.”
“So no bar?” Landon asked.
“Fuck that.”
“So what are we doing?” Landon asked, sounding annoyed.
The kid’s cheeks are turning red with frustration. It is freaking hilarious. It takes everything in my power not to laugh.
“We aren’t doing anything,” Miles said elusively. “No offense, kid. The last thing I wanna do on my first night out of the can is to go to a tittie bar with you.”
Landon grunted. “None taken. I guess… So what are you doing?”
As Miles handled the jarring turn onto the Benjamin Franklin Bridge, he replied with a wicked smile on growing from his lips, “Gonna wrap myself around some wicked curves, boy. Don’t wait up.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“DAMN IT, LETTY! What’s taking so long? Where’s my dinner?” Michael Capadonno yelled in a raspy voice from the hospital bed that was situated in the parlor of 744 Heritage Avenue in Carrion, New Jersey. The most notorious address in town.
Letty’s right eyebrow arched as she poured the contents of a pot into a stainless steel colander. The angel hair pasta slipped from the pot as a cloud of steam billowed before her, threatening to melt off her make-up. Smoothing down her brown hair that was pulled tightly into a bun atop her head, Letty attempted to calm the muscles in her face and neck before she faced Michael.